


how rare and beautiful

by kurapikano



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Existential Angst, Fear of Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Sad Ending, The Kurta Clan Massacre (Hunter X Hunter), Unhappy Ending, anyway fuck the spiders all my homies hate the spiders, i say as i write a fic abt it, pairo fucking dies, this is so mean this is why we cannot have nice things, togashi is a fake one for killing pairo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26458291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurapikano/pseuds/kurapikano
Summary: "How rare and beautiful it is to even exist."- "Saturn", Sleeping At LastPairo reflects moments before death.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	how rare and beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> title from by the song in the summary.
> 
> hello, readers! a few quick updates for my followers and/or those who read my stories:
> 
> \- life is busy, and writing muse is striking in blurbs, so updates to chapter fics like mm will be slow. they'll come, but at a pace.  
> \- you might see frequent short one-shots, as these are a nice way to build up my inspiration and get the ball rolling. easier for me, as well!  
> \- in general, things may be slow. studies are back in session and that leaves me with less time, on top of taking care of a very overactive puppy and dealing with personal stuff.
> 
> that being said, enjoy!
> 
> nobunaga, chrollo, and kurapika - along with pairo's father - are only vaguely referenced. this is literally centric of pairo's own thoughts from a you/your pov so yeah!!
> 
> ( tw: death, death of a child at that, implied torture, fear of death, panic, compulsory praying, fire, beheading, body horror/gore )
> 
> could also be triggering if a pov in which you embody the character in a way would make you paranoid - it's meant to be an immersive pov, and could potentially produce panic. proceed with caution, and at your discretion.

You can't see, and you're not sure if it's torturous, or if being able to see would be worse.

Either way, your other senses are blazing on high alert, and you can somehow still tell everything that's going on around you.

You can taste the ash in the air. The roar of nearby fire is rumbling in your ears, and you can feel the heat from where you are, bound to a chair in your kitchen, presumably opposite your father, who has been watching you gain wound after wound for the sake of the sick desires of these…

..You aren't sure who they are, or what they are, but your blood is running cold, and you hate how the sticky residue of saltwater tears feels on your cheeks.

You're just a child, after all - how could you do anything but silently weep as things fall down around you? Your village is burning, your people are dying, fresh cuts and lash marks are pulsing on your skin-

And your best friend isn't even aware yet.

Or, at least, you're sure he can't be - maybe he is, though. Maybe he's coming with help, and everything will be okay. The thought, as naïve as it is, and you know it is, makes you release a choked sob, but you begin coughing at the intake of the fire's fumes. The second you make a sound, you feel cold metal press against the skin of your neck, sharp.

Your entire body tenses, and your eyes, albeit cloudy due to the state of them, burn scarlet out of every horrible feeling in your core right now.

The metal leaves after you silence yourself.

"Boss, the kid's blind," you hear a male voice say, gruff and imperturbable.

"Hm.." comes the serene, honeyed contemplation, "It could make the eyes rarer, and, therefore, possibly more valuable."

"..Alright."

You know what they intend to do with you - the same others had done to your clansmen in the past - and your father knows, too, judging by the way he begins to shout in protest. You don't make out what he's saying, because you can't - your pulse is hammering in your ears.

Normally a calm child, you're paralyzed; you're scared.

You're so scared.

You're young and have room to grow, you aren't supposed to die yet, you _can't_ die yet, Kurapika is going to come back and-

..And you'll be rotting, devoid of your eyes and limp on the floor of your home.

It's not long after that thought that your tears begin to fall unabashedly, lips parting to babble some string of pleas amongst sobs and anguished cries. You're never like this, you're always so calm and patient, this isn't _you._ It can't be.

This can't be real.

But it is, and, after a few moments of being shouted at to be quiet, your voice becomes quieter than the roar of flame, and it allows you some space to shakily whisper your prayers before you go to your great reward.

_"Sun in the sky, trees on the ground; our bodies, created from the earth, our souls, from the heavens. The sun and moon shine on our limbs, and the ground moistens our body. Giving the body to the wind that blows, thank the gods for the miracle, and the Kurta territories."_

You hear mumbles between the two men who had spoken before, one gruff, and one entirely calm.

_"Wishing for everlasting peace in our souls, I desire to share happiness with my people, and desire to share their sadness. Gods, please praise eternally the Kurta people. Let the scarlet eyes be our witness."_

You hear the blade swing out of its cover again, and your eyes flood with fresh tears. Your father is yelling with nothing but grief in his voice - you know he will follow you soon after.

Everything hurts so badly; the heat, the searing cuts, the bruises, everything is a source of pain. It's been hours, you know that much, and, even seconds away from your death, you find a horrid thought in your mind.

_Oh, gods, just let it be over, please let it end._

The sword slices through the air with a metallic rush, and you raise your head dutifully, exposing your neck as a sign of surrender, because you just can't do it anymore. You need it to be over, now.

Your father screams your name.

The sword comes swiftly through the air.

How rare and beautiful it was to exist.


End file.
